Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
RHETT
I don’t think I’ve ever seen my family more broken, more crushed than they are right now. With all the shit we’ve been through during the course of my life, nothing has ripped through us like this—not Dad’s drinking, not his accident, and not any of the other stupid bullshit my brothers and I have ever gotten ourselves into.
Brooks is . . . Shit . I’m not sure Brooks is going to be able to come back from this. It’s like the light inside of his soul has switched off, lost to the darkness of despair that’s taken hold of him, and not even the boys are able to find a way through it. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to lose so much and still have to navigate raising three children. Thank god for Mom, for Layla and Wells, who all take turns caring for them while Brooks is lost to his devastation.
James doesn’t seem to really understand what’s happened other than his mommy went to sleep and now lives in heaven. But Liam and Noah better understood how the cancer had wrapped its grotesque arms around her, squeezing her tight with a claim over her life. They saw her fight it, saw her lose , and they aren’t sure how the hell to process the unfairness of it all. How it’s possible they actually lost their mom. They’re far too young to be so heartbroken, and with Bennett blood running through their veins, it’s anger that they’ve seemed to turn to.
I come into the main house around lunchtime to find Liam sitting at the kitchen table by himself, glaring at nothing and everything around him. Kasey and Wells are still out with the horses, but I know Layla’s around here somewhere, probably busy with James. Brooks retreated to his own cabin yesterday and locked himself inside without a word, and we’re all fucking scared of what he might try to do to himself. But we saw Mom march over there this morning, set of spare keys in hand and determination in her gait, and neither of them have appeared again since.
I hope like hell she gets through to him. That he lets someone in to help him lay out the next steps of his life.
I grab a loaf of bread and jar of peanut butter from the pantry, bringing them across the kitchen to the open counter. “Hungry, Rooster?” I ask.
Even with my back to him, I feel the way his glare singes. “No.”
I nod, pulling a banana from the bunch in the fruit basket. Spreading peanut butter over two pieces of bread, I make quick work of slicing the banana into chunks and adding them to the sandwich, tossing the whole thing on one of the kids’ plastic plates with a smiling cartoon puppy and bringing it to the table. I sink into the seat directly across from him and take a big bite.
He eyes the sandwich hungrily—I happen to know it’s his favorite, and I’d bet he hasn’t had lunch yet. Might be why he’s sulking in the kitchen. “I’ll give it to you if you tell me why you look like that,” I say evenly.
“Like what?” His eyes rise to meet mine.
“Like you want to punch me.”
He considers. “Maybe I do.”
I nod. “Yeah. I get that. But is it me , or is it just your anger talking?”
He frowns. “Both.”
I lean back in my chair, spreading my feet out in front of me beneath the table. “Tell you what,” I say. “You keep that anger focused on me, okay? When you feel it, I want you to let it out—but not on your brothers, and not with Grandma or Layla. You let it out with me. Deal?”
He looks at me like I’ve grown a mane and a tail, but I don’t blame him. I’m sure the last thing he expected was permission to be an asshole. “I won’t get in trouble?” he asks tentatively.
“Fuck no.” I shake my head. “Promise.”
He looks back at the sandwich, gripping the edge of the table tight in his hands.
And then he shoots out of the chair and hurls himself at me.
As far as I know, Liam’s never been in a fight—he’s only eleven, and I imagine the bulk of that stupid schoolyard bullshit is still a few years away. But when he pulls his little fist back and swings it at me, I’m surprised with how much power he’s able to throw. He lands his punch right in my eye, causing an explosion of pain I wasn’t prepared for and a grunt to escape from my throat. But as soon as I open my eyes again to look at him, he’s already swinging on me again, this time landing a fucking haymaker to my jaw.
“ Shit ,” I mumble, grabbing at my face. I fight the natural instinct to push him away and protect myself, knowing that he needs this. But after a few heartbeats pass, he doesn’t make another move.
When I look up at him, he’s crying.
“Come here,” I murmur, holding my arms open.
He launches into my chest and I wrap my arms tightly around him, letting him cry and cry. I soothe a hand across his back as his shoulders shudder, feeling his tears soak the front of my shirt. “You’re going to be okay,” I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut. “I promise you, kid. We’re all going to be okay. This family survives . We always do.”
“She didn’t!” He slams a fist into my bicep, still clutched tight to my chest.
And dammit if it doesn’t almost break me. “I know, Liam. And it’s not fair. None of this is fair. It’s going to be one of the hardest things you’ll ever have to go through, but you will get through it. And you’ll help your brothers through it too, because you’re an amazing kid. But you don’t have to do any of it alone, okay?”
He pushes away to look at me, his eyes red-rimmed with the tears still spilling over. He’s got his mother’s eyes, her sun-streaked hair. But it’s Brooks’s fire in his heart. “Will my dad get through it?”
My chest squeezes. “Your dad just lost the love of his life. It’s going to take him a while . . . but he’ll get through it. Your uncles and I will all help him—it’s what brothers do.”
He nods, wiping his nose on his sleeve. And then he grabs the plate on the table and brings it to the other side where he sits back down and eats.
I stand, rustling my hand through his hair, and head for the door.
We decided to close Wild Coyote for at least the week—none of us have the heart to leave the ranch, especially not to face potential questions from people in town. Melody didn’t grow up in Saddlebrook Falls, and I’m not sure if any of them know much about her other than she’s Brooks’s wife and the mother of his children—that she’s a Bennett like the rest of us.
Or was . . .
Fuck .
But it’s only a matter of time before someone with a connection to the hospital finds out that she’s gone. And we sure as shit aren’t ready to deal with the way the news of her death will undoubtedly spread through town like wildfire.
Still, closing down the bar is going to hurt financially, and we’re already hurting pretty damn bad. I’ve never cared enough about the business side of things to have a good grasp on the books, but Kasey says money’s tighter than he’s ever seen it, and I know that’s saying something. Now we have a funeral to plan on top of all the medical bills, and we still need to find a lawyer who can help us navigate Huck’s potential threat to the ranch—a threat that’s more prominent now that Brooks might’ve lost his legal claim, his birthright , to the land.
It feels like a stone’s lodged itself in my throat when I think of the call I made two nights ago, after Melody died. When I think of what I have to do tomorrow, the risks I have to take.
But even worse is what I have to do tonight.
* * *
Guilt rips through me when I finally text Olivia and ask if I can see her. There are at least half a dozen messages she’s sent that have gone unanswered over the last couple of days, and based on that and the calls I’ve avoided, I know she’s worried. And I know I’m the worst kind of asshole for staying quiet.
But the truth is, my need for Olivia has become a sentient, all-consuming beast that I’m not sure will ever be sated. The more I’ve given into the temptation to push things further with her, the more this need pounds through me and rattles my very bones. Despite everything going on around me, my mind finds solace in thoughts of her. I lie awake at night and think of nothing but her skin, so soft and warm and opposite of everything I am. I think of her eyes, the depths of green and gold that I could get lost in for eternity, an endless pasture of my deepest desires.
I know with my whole stupid heart that I don’t deserve her, that just like everything else in my life, this will end in a monumental catastrophe. Especially now, when I have nothing to give her and no room for distractions. But fuck —I haven’t had it in me to soften the blow. I haven’t had the capacity to pull away from her because she’s . . . she’s so damn sweet and addicting.
But I have to. I care about her more than I thought I even could, which means I need to cut her loose.
I’m sorry for disappearing the other night , I type into my phone as I walk toward my cabin, fingers shaking with the weight of what’s coming. We need to talk. Can I see you tonight?
Her response comes in mere seconds. I’m off around seven.
I’ll pick you up then.
My thoughts begin to spiral as I think of Brooks and everything he’s experiencing. I think of myself in his shoes, what it would be like to watch Olivia slowly wither away into nothing, whether from something like cancer or from the inevitable chaos of being with someone like me.
I think of what it’s going to feel like to lose her—to lose her so I can save her.
I pull my bike into the café’s lot right at seven, my mind tumbling when I see her already waiting on the curb. She’s wearing a green cotton dress beneath a brown jacket, her strawberry hair spread around her shoulders. And if looks could kill, I’d be a dead man.
I hold the second helmet out for her and she takes it, slipping it over her head and buckling the straps herself before she climbs onto the back of the bike. She doesn’t hold me as tightly around the middle, doesn’t laugh with the rush of the speed on the highway, and I realize my silence since leaving her the other night has done more damage than I’d anticipated.
Good , I think. This will be easier if she’s mad at me. And lord knows I deserve it.
I take her to the water tower, where we’d traded secrets over burgers not too long ago. It’s probably too cold to climb up there this late, but it’s quiet amongst the trees and far enough away from everything that I know we’ll have privacy. I can’t bring her to the ranch right now, and I sure as hell don’t want to hurt her in her own house.
I park along the fence line and cut the engine. Olivia is quick to jump off the bike, strutting away from me as she works to wrangle her helmet off. I pull mine off and set it on the tank before standing to wait for her.
Once her helmet’s off, she whirls back around. “You fucking disappeared,” she says.
Oh yeah, she’s mad.
“Melody died,” I say quietly.
I watch her face change, those hard lines of anger softening into something more like concern. “Oh my god,” she says, clutching a hand to her chest. “I . . . I wondered if it might have something to do with her, but I didn’t . . . I’m so sorry.”
“We knew it was coming,” I say. “The doctor all but said it a week ago. But we had no idea it would be so fast.” My gaze drops to the ground. “She’d had a really great day too. I think we were all carrying a little hope that things were turning around.”
Her eyes close as she lets out a breath. “I’m so sorry, Rhett,” she says again.
I move toward her, reaching to press my palm into her cheek. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I thought you were ghosting me,” she admits. “I thought—I thought everyone was right.”
The words are like a shot to the heart.
“I should have known,” she adds. “God, I feel like such an idiot?—”
“No,” I interject. “Don’t you dare. You have every right to question things that don’t sit right, Olivia. Trusting yourself and your instincts is important in all this. And you were right to question me.”
She frowns, and the sight of it guts me. “Did someone hit you?”
“My nephew—Liam. He’s . . . no one is taking it well.”
She’s looking at me like I’m a wounded bird. Like she wants to care for me, and . . . Dammit . I need to do it right fucking now. I need to tell her this is over.
“Olivia,” I say. But then she’s hugging me, her arms wrapped tightly around me as her face presses into my neck.
She hugs me, and it feels like home.
I nearly buckle at the knees as I fumble to get my own arms around her.
“Where are you right now?” she asks, her mouth a hot jolt of lightning against my collar.
“Nowhere good,” I concede, squeezing my eyes shut against the anxiety barreling through me. The pain of losing her is already so potent, and it hasn’t even started yet.
But it will, because nothing good ever lasts. Whether I take control of it now or it takes control of me later, I will lose this.
I feel her still, the loss of her mouth against my skin enough to make me wince. But then she presses a soft kiss to my throat and I can’t help but lean into it, lifting my chin to give her more. “What can I do?” she asks, voice gentle and brave. So fucking brave.
I almost cry out in panicked frustration, realizing my hands are shaking as I lift them to pull her in close. I’m supposed to be ending this, telling her all the reasons I’m no good for her—especially with all that I’m about to do—but my hands have a mind of their own. “I need to quiet the noise,” I breathe out through clenched teeth. Even as I work to chase away the damning thoughts, I can’t catch a breath.
I need you .
“You have me,” she insists. I must have said it out loud. It would be embarrassing if I wasn’t already coming apart at the seams. Small, delicate hands slide up my jaw and I open my eyes to find her watching, her focus sharp and intent, studying me for the cracks that she can no doubt slip herself through. My beautiful, brave girl, ready to face my demons with me. “I’m right here, Rhett. You already have me. Do you feel this?” She presses my hand to her chest, to her beating heart. “I’m right here, baby.”
I take in the warmth of her sure eyes, the confidence in her hands as she holds me together, and finally suck down enough air to fill the lungs in my too-tight chest. I focus on the feel of her body against mine, on the cotton neckline of her dress, and let myself tip over the edge into the chaos.
I want her so bad it hurts.
“Tell me to stop,” I force out, trying to give her a chance to stop this now while I still have some semblance of control. I’m not sure what’s coming, but if the roaring beast inside of me is any indication, I’m about to lose it.
“No,” she says. Simple and clear. Her eyes flash with stubborn anticipation, and if I wasn’t currently spiraling, I’d reward her for it.
I stand, hooking my hands around the backs of her thighs as I rise to lift her with me. She gasps in surprise, but her legs wrap around my waist on instinct, and I turn to lay her down the length of my bike. “No pretending this time, peaches,” I say, voice raw and breaking with all the ways I’m still failing her. “Right now, I just need you to be mine.”
I don’t give her a chance to respond before my hands are under her dress, pulling the fabric up tight around her waist. She’s wearing a lacy black thong that looks tempting as hell, but I hold strong to a desperate ache to taste her and instead rip the fabric right off of her body.
She moans, but I don’t let myself enjoy the sound. This isn’t about her or her pleasure, it’s about me chasing away the monsters in the shadows of my mind that are threatening to take over. I hate myself for using her like this, for wrapping her so deep in my shit that she’s bound to it now. Where there’s light, there’s Olivia. But where there’s pain, she’ll be there now too. And it’s all my doing.
Dropping to my knees, I let my gaze bounce to her face for one fleeting moment of reprieve, finding her watching me with so much worry marring her beautiful face. Her concern is obvious, even as she shivers from the mix of cold air and the desire slicking her inner thighs.
I’m right here, baby.
I’m so sorry , I think. Hoping she knows it’s the truth. That I’m so fucking sorry for ever thinking I could bring her into my life without hurting her.
I rip my gaze away and focus between her legs, letting my torment swallow me whole.
And then I give in.